The Matchmaker
by allthingsdecent
Summary: What if House gave Cuddy her grandfather's book, but a crane never collapsed in Trenton? (Look for a very special guest appearance by Alvie)
1. Chapter 1

**This one comes from a great prompt from the lovely and talented suzmum: What if House gave Cuddy her grandfather's book but a crane never collapsed in Trenton? You'll recognize the dialogue from the opening scene in Help Me (thank you marvelous LJ House transcript people). I go rogue from there. Decided to break this bad boy into two parts because it was getting long.**

"Here," House said, shoving a crudely wrapped package into Cuddy's hands.

"What's this?" Then she put it up to her ear. "I don't hear ticking," she cracked.

"Just open it," he said, impatiently.

Cuddy opened the package and House watched proudly as her face lit up in amazed appreciation.

"My grandfather!" she said.

"No, it's just a book he wrote. Open it up."

She read the inscription: _To Lisa and Lucas. Here's to a new chapter. Best, Greg._

"Seriously? You're giving this to us? And you're…calling me _Lisa_?"

"It's a big step you're taking," House said. "I wanted to congratulate you. I understand that's the adult thing to do."

Cuddy inspected him for a second.

"How did you know?"

"I've known for a while. The fact that you decided to cohabitate is not exactly a spoiler."

Cuddy blanched a bit, said nothing.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, hopefully.

"Nothing like that. It's just. . .forget it. Thanks for this gift. It's really incredible."

And that was when he noticed the ring on her finger.

"What's that?" he said, with a scowl.

"This is . . . actually, this is what I thought you were congratulating me for," she admitted.

His mouth dropped open. He kept staring at her ring, like it was about to sprout wings and breathe fire.

"Lucas proposed last night," Cuddy continued. "Nobody knows. That's why I was so confused. I mean, your intel is good. But not _that_ good." She gave a nervous chuckle.

"You're marrying him?" his voice cracked a bit.

"It can't be that much of a surprise to you, House. Lucas and I have been together for a year."

He tried to collect himself.

"No. . .I . . . you're right. Of course. It's the logical next step."

The room was thick with tension, but she tried to make light of it.

"It's customary to congratulate someone when you hear news of their engagement," she teased.

"Congratulations," he said mechanically.

She looked at him. He looked totally lost. She had an urge to hug him, but that would probably be inappropriate.

"House, are you going to be okay with this?" she said, gently.

"Do I have any choice?"

"No," she sighed. "I suppose not."

"Then I'll be fine. Have a nice life."

He went to leave, but she called after him.

He turned.

She started to say something. Then stopped.

"Thanks again," she said finally. "For the book. It's the . . .best present I've ever gotten."

"Don't mention it," he said, limping quickly away.

######

"Close your eyes, babe," Lucas said, coming into the bedroom with one hand behind his back.

"What's that?" she said, wrinkling her nose.

"A present. Now close your eyes."

"Why are you giving me a present?"

"Because this is what life is going to be like from now on, babe. I'm a just an everyday present kinda guy. Now close your eyes, woman!"

She closed them.

He put something in her hands, clearly a stuffed animal of sorts.

"Open them!" he said proudly.

It was a teddy bear, wearing silk boxer shorts with hearts on them. The bear had cursive letters sewn onto his chest that read, "Bear chested."

"Get it?" Lucas said. "Bear chested. Not bare? That kind of thing kills me."

"Thanks. It's adorable," Cuddy said, putting it on the nightstand.

She went back to reading her book.

Lucas peered at the title: "_Approach to the Acute Abdomen_. Sounds like a laugh riot."

"Check the author," she said.

"Ernest Cuddy," he read. "Any relation?"

"My great grandfather."

"Wow. Huh. How'd you dig that old thing up?"

"It was a gift. Actually, it's for both of us."

"Whoever gave us that gift doesn't know me that well," Lucas chuckled.

"It's from House."

He had climbed into bed beside her. Now he sat up.

"House? That's his idea of an. . .engagement gift?"

"Not quite. It's for me, obviously. But I think he included you on the inscription as a peace-offering of sort."

"So he knows we're engaged?" Lucas said, tentatively.

"Yes."

"And he hasn't shown up drunk on our doorstep. So that's a plus. Although the night is young."

"Not funny."

"Who's joking?"

He peered at her.

"You look so hot reading that big book in your little nightie. I'm having naughty librarian fantasies."

"Have you ever actually been to a library?"

He turned toward her. "Anyway, my lovely bride to be, study time is over." He pulled the book out of her hands.

"Hey, I was reading that!" she said.

"The book will still be here tomorrow. My boner, on the other hand, is a temporary state."

"Ew," she said, vaguely.

"Let's both get bear-chested, shall we?" he said, diving for her.

#####

"So I understand congratulations are in order," Wilson said grimly, sitting down across from Cuddy in the cafeteria.

"Once more with feeling," she said.

"Hey, if you're happy, I'm happy," he said, raising a hand in protest.

"Then why do you look like you just sucked on a particularly sour lemon?"

"Because. . .House is my friend and this is hard on him."

She took a distracted bite of her sandwich.

"I know," she said. "How's he doing?"

"On a scale from 1 to 10, he's. . .miserable."

"It's sort of a double whammy isn't it? First you kick him out, then I get engaged."

"I didn't kick him out," Wilson protested.

"How else would you put it?"

"I . . .gently asked him to habitate elsewhere."

"In other words, you kicked him out."

Wilson gave a weary shrug.

"I guess."

"But he's okay from a mental health standpoint, right? No drugs. Still seeing that Nolan guy?"

"Yes to being off drugs. No to seeing that Nolan guy. House ditched him."

Cuddy looked up, concerned.

"Why?"

"He said he wasn't helping."

"But he was! Anyone can see it. House is getting better."

"He doesn't think so."

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit."

"Maybe I'll talk to him," Cuddy said.

"Oh yeah, he's really receptive to what you have to say right now."

"I know. He gave me this. . .insanely thoughtful gift and now he's barely talking to me."

"Just give him a little time to lick his wounds. He'll come around."

Cuddy put her thumb and forefinger to her brow for a second and gave a slightly self-deprecating chuckle.

"What does it say about me that the first thing I thought of when I accepted Lucas's proposal was, 'How is House going to react to this?'"

"I don't know," Wilson said, pointedly. "What _does_ it say?"

"Not what you think it says," she said, hastily. "Just that I still care about him. Always have, always will."

"Well, that makes two of us," Wilson said. "So I'd say right now we're both on red alert."

######

A few days later, Cuddy swung by House's office.

"Can I buy you lunch?" she said.

He was sitting behind his desk, wearing a black tee-shirt and jeans, reviewing a patient file. His glasses were halfway down his nose.

He looked up, took the glasses off.

"No can do. Busy."

"Oh," she said. "How bout tomorrow then?"

"Busy then, too," he said.

"House, I wanted to thank you properly for the gift. It was. . .extraordinary."

"You don't need to buy me anything in return," he said. "This isn't a barter system. The gift came with no strings attached."

"I just want to express my appreciation."

"And now you've expressed it."

She studied his face for a second.

"I just want to make sure that my engagement doesn't affect our friendship."

"Trust me, it won't affect our friendship in the least," he said, edgily.

"Because you don't think we have a friendship," she said.

"I didn't say that," he muttered.

"But I got your message, loud and clear."

"I don't know what you want from me, Cuddy."

"I want you to be happy."

"Why do you care if I'm happy?"

"You know I do, House." She hesitated. "Wilson tells me you stopped seeing Nolan."

House sighed.

"Next time I want to get a message to you quickly, I'll be sure to tell Wilson in strict confidence."

"He's worried about you. So am I. Why'd you quit?"

House pursed his lips.

"Because it wasn't working."

"That's not true. You're sober. You're not hallucinating. You're doing really well!"

"Oh yeah. I'm livin' the dream."

"Why not stay in treatment just for a few more months? To get you through. . ."

"Your engagement?"

"I was going to say living on your own again."

He laughed grimly.

"_Sure_ you were."

"I just want you to take care of yourself."

"I'm fine, Cuddy. I'd be even better if you left my office."

Annoyed, she started to leave. Then she stopped.

"If you're so angry with me, why'd you give me the book?" she said.

He looked up.

"What?"

"I said, if you don't care about me, if you don't want to be friends, why'd you give me the book?"

"It was collecting dust on my shelf. What else was I supposed to do with it?"

"But you found it. Presumably for me."

"In a more . . .optimistic time."

She put her hands on her hips.

"I have a theory about you. Wanna hear it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

He folded his arms, readying himself.

"My theory is you're great with the big gesture: My college desk. My grandfather's book. Both those things took am enormous amount of thought and effort to acquire. It's the little everyday stuff you can't seem to handle."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Wait a second. Rewind there. You knew that desk was from me?"

"Of course! Who else?"

"Then how come you never thanked me for it?"

"I guess. . .because you screwed up another one of the little things that day."

"That was the point of the desk. To apologize for acting like a jackass."

"You _were_ a jackass that day," Cuddy agreed. "But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about after you got me the desk."

"After? You didn't say anything. It was like you thought the desk fairies had delivered it to you on unicorns."

"I went rushing to your office to thank you," Cuddy said.

"And since I wasn't there, you decided to leave me hanging for a year?"

"Oh, you were there all right."

"Cuddy, I'm lost."

"You were with some. . .bimbo."

"It's not nice to call Thirteen a bimbo," he cracked.

"Not Thirteen. Some …skanky prostitute-looking lady. She was standing about an inch away from you. It looked like you two were making. . .arrangements."

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about!" he said. And it struck him. "Oh shit."

"Yeah, oh shit."

"That's not what you think."

"So that woman wasn't a prostitute?"

"Yes, she was."

"And you didn't hire her?"

"Yes, I did."

"So, in fact, it's exactly what I think."

"But I just hired her to play a prank on Taub and Kutner! They were cashing in on my name for this online medical advice racket. . .Look, the details are irrelevant. The point is, I never slept with her!" (This was only technically true. "I still have time left on my meter," Dee Dee had reminded him, raising her eyebrows. He had locked the door and she had blown him under the desk.)

"I don't believe you," Cuddy said, her eyes flashing.

"So you've been holding a grudge for over a year over a . . . misunderstanding?"

"More like a moment of clarity."

"Oh yeah? What was so clear?"

"That anytime I made any sort of step toward you, you backed away. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes subconsciously. But always, _always_ backing away. So I gave up."

"And ran straight into the arms of Skippy the Wonder PI."

"At least _he_ doesn't play games."

"This has never been a game for me."

"Please, House. That's all it's ever been."

He looked down, hurt.

"Of course you would think that."

"You make this grand romantic gesture, buy me this desk and then immediately fuck a prostitute? How was I supposed to feel?"

"I didn't fuck her!" he shouted.

"Keep your voice down," she said, glancing into the DDx room, which was empty. "Whatever happened between you two, it was just another move in the game, another way for you to sabotage whatever was happening between us. _Again_."

He made unnervingly direct eye contact with her.

"What if I told you it wasn't a game. That it has never been a game to me?" he said.

She looked back at him, for a moment, feeling her own resolve waver.

_Don't get sucked in, Lisa. Don't get sucked in. _

"I'd say. . I'm engaged to another man."

#####

A few days later, Cuddy was in the lobby when she saw a wiry young man, who was so jumpy and high strung, he looked like he was traversing the hospital on an imaginary pogo stick.

Speed freak?

"May I help you?" she said.

"I'm here to see your best doctor!" the man said.

"We have a free clinic," she said. "And a drug treatment program. It's through that door."

"No, no, no, pretty lady! I'm clean as a baby's conscience and healthy as a horse! This is strictly a social call."

"To whom?"

"I told you! The hospital's best doctor!"

She gave a cynical smile.

"Something tells me, you are not here to see the hospital's best doctor."

"House, House, baby!" he sang, Vanilla Ice style. "We're best friends!"

She couldn't help but to laugh.

"You know Dr. House?"

"Know him? Know him? Lady, we were roomies! Compadres! Best friends for life!"

It finally dawned on her.

"At Mayfield."

"The finest vacation resort on the East Coast!" the man said. "I'm Alvie." He thrust out his hand.

"I'm Dr. Cuddy."

"Dr. Lisa Cuddy," he said, circling her. "In the flesh. And what fine flesh it is."

"House told you about me?" she said.

"Told me about you? More like, moaned your name in his sleep, if you know what I mean!"

"I'm sure he didn't. . ."

"Our boy is smitten, with a capital S. You're the light of his life, fire of his loins, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

Cuddy laughed nervously.

"Is Dr. House expecting you?" she said.

"This is surprise visit. We both know how much my main man loves surprises."

"I don't think you know him as well as you think you do."

She was having a hard time imagining House ever interacting with this little ball of nervous energy.

"That was ironic, Dr. Lisa Cuddy! He hates surprises!" Alvie said. "But he'll love this one. He thought I was in Phoenix! He's going to be very happy to see me."

"His office is on the second—"

"I know where his office is! I told you, we're best friends!"  
Alvie said. "See you later, Lisa Cuddy, Queen of Medicine."

She watched him lope away.

"What was that?" she said, under her breath.

A few minutes later, Alvie made his way to House's office.

"Ka-Pow!" he said, jumping in front of House.

House, who had been reading something on the computer, jumped a foot.

"Christ, Alvie. You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry House. I got excited."

"What are you even doing here? You're supposed to be in Phoenix."

"There was a little situation involving my cousin and some unpaid debts to some less than reputable people. He advised that I stay away for a few more days."

"You're not staying on my couch."

"No worries, Doc. I've got a sweet hookup with a single lady."

House raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Alvie, a girlfriend?"

"Um, actually my great aunt Yolanda. But her tamales will put you in a fetal position."

"Good for you."

"Speaking of tamales, I'm starved. Where are you taking me for lunch?"

"No can do. I already ate."

"So eat again, House! I came all the way from the Bronx!"

"I'm busy. Next time, they have this new-fangled invention called the telephone. Use it."

"Aww man," Alvie said, pouting. "This blows. I'm flying out to Phoenix next week. Our paths may never cross again."

"From your lips to god's ears."

"Hey!" he said, hurt.

House looked up at him, looked at his watch, then sighed.

"Tell you what? I'm free after work for drinks."

"We can put the happy in happy hour!"

"You put the happy in happy hour. I'll put the 'barely tolerating your company' in happy hour."

"It's a date, mate! Where to?"

"Sullivan's at 7 pm. I'll see you there."

"Why can't I just wait here? I'll be quiet as a church mouse. You'll never know I'm here!"

"Because All Alvie, All the Time is a bit too much for me to handle. 7 pm."

Alvie knew when to cut his losses.

"Don't be late, to our very important date!"

"Don't worry, Alvie. The faster it begins, the sooner it ends."

Once Alvie left, he bumped right smack into Cuddy again in the lobby.

"That was fast," she said.

"He already had lunch so we're meeting for drinks later. Which is for the best because candy is dandy but liquor is quicker!"

"So they say," Cuddy said.

"Hey," Alvie said, tugging on the sleeve of Cuddy's jacket. "I meant to ask you: Did you like the book?"

"What book?"

"I dunno. The medical book. _How to Approach Cute Abdomens_, or something like that."

"_Approach to the Acute Abdomen?"_

"Right," Alvie said. "That's what I said."

"How do you even know about that?"

"Know about it? I was the one who swiped it! They don't call me Sticky Fingers Alvie for nothing."

"House _stole_ the book?"

"Well, technically yes. But it's a long story."

"I have time," Cuddy said, drolly.

"The book was his. Just sitting on his bookshelf minding its own business. And I _may_ have accidentally sold the book to a consignment shop. And House blew a gasket. Oh man, was he pissed. So we tracked down the guy who bought it, right? And he was this really snooty professor type." He put on an affected, vaguely British sounding voice: "'Jeeves, go get the door while I steep my tea'—that sort of thing."  
"Anyway, House offered to buy the book back: For two thousand bucks!"

Cuddy stared at him, astonished.

"He was willing two thousand dollars to buy the book back?"

"Yeah. I guess he really wanted you to have that book."

"So then what happened?"

"The asshole said no. Can you believe it? He was all, 'I'm afraid the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane. And also, you can't have my book, suck-er!' That's when Alvie the Cat Burglar stepped in. I was cat quick. I was like a ninja." He made a few assorted ninja sounds. "Dude never had a chance. I gotta say, after I stole back that book, that was the nicest House has ever been to me." He grinned at her. "So…do you like it?"

"I … love it," Cuddy admitted.

"That must've made House happy," Alvie said, dreamily.

"It . . .did. But then unfortunately we, uh, had a falling out."

"Falling out?"

"No big deal. Just a temporary . . .difference of opinion, you could say."

"It can't be that bad," Alvie said, brightly. "Why else would he invite you to join us for drinks tonight?"

"He did not."

"Did so," Alvie said. "His exact words were, 'All Alvie all the time is a bit much to take. See if Dr. Cuddy can join us.'"

That actually _did_ sound like House.

"Are you sure?"

"Positively definitely certifiably undeniably sure."

"I suppose I could. . ."

"Sullivan's at 7:15 pm, my Queen of Medicine. See you then!"

_To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

**A lot of people really dug this prompt so allow me to say this to my fellow fic writers: Take it! I went with a more playful, Alvie-powered version of this prompt, but it could obviously go in many different, heavier directions. If you want to write your alternate version of Help Me, where there is Cuddy's grandfather's book, but no collapsed crane in Trenton, go forth and fic it. xo, atd**

After making her plans with Alvie, Cuddy called Lucas.

"I'm going to be late tonight," she said.

"No! But your mom is watching Rachel!" he whined. "I was hoping we were going to have a nice quiet evening sitting on the couch, eating microwave popcorn, watching _CSI: South Beach_, and canoodling."

She frowned.

"Didn't we watch that horrible show last night?"

"No, that was _NCIS: Long Beach_."

"Ah," Cuddy said.

"How late do you have to work anyway?" he said, his voice getting that tetchy quality it got when he was upset.

"I shouldn't be home much later than 10," she said.

(Hey, she never said it was work: He did.)

"Just remember, Lisa. You can't be married to your job _and _to me."

That line of reasoning, as always, touched a nerve.

"What did I tell you about respecting the work I do here at the hospital?"

"Easy there, Madame Dean. I respect it. I just also respect the sanctity of date night."

"There will be plenty of date nights in our future," she offered, half-heartedly.

"Good point. Alright, babe. I guess I'll just. . .order a pizza and sit here, by myself. Alone. Without companionship. Solo. Me, myself, and I."

"I get it, Lucas."

######

Alvie and House had just ordered their first round when Cuddy appeared in the doorway of Sullivan's, looking important and glamorous, as ever, and scanning the room. She spotted them.

"Hey look!" Alvie said, brightly, as she approached. "It's Dr. Cuddy!"

"What the hell she doing here?" House hissed, glaring at him.

"It's _possible_ that I invited her to join us."

"You idiot!"

"Also, it's possible that I told her it was your idea. So, your call on whether or not you want to go with that story. But you better decide fast, because she's going to be at the table in 3. . .2. . .1."

"Cuddy!" House said brightly, as both men stood up. "So glad you could make it."

"Thanks for inviting me. I have to admit, I was . . . pleasantly surprised."

Alvie got up, gesturing for Cuddy to squeeze in next to House. She took off her sports jacket, revealing a sleeveless silk blouse underneath. Alvie and House practically had to roll their tongues back in their mouths, like cartoon characters.

"Whatchya drinkin, pretty lady?" Alvie said.

"Vodka martini," she said. "And here"—she handed him her credit card. "Put the whole bill on my tab."

"Sweet!" Alvie said, taking the card and bounding off.

"That's not necessary," House said.

"Actually, it is. You know how much I've been wanting to thank you for tracking down that book."

"It was nothing," he said. Then he added: "Have you read it yet?"

"I'm about halfway through."

"Your grandfather's a good writer. Did you get to the chapter on appendectomy incisions? He was ahead of his time."

"You read the book?" she asked, incredulously.

He shrugged.

"Of course."

Her mind flashed briefly to Lucas, who could barely even feign interest in the book. Then she refocused.

"Your friend Alvie is quite the character," she said.

"He's probably halfway to Puerto Rico now with your credit card, by the way," House cracked.

"I trust him," she said.

"You always were the overly trusting sort," he said, looking at her.

"Ah, ye of little faith," she said, as Alvie returned to the table, precariously juggling three drinks: scotch for House, beer for him, and Cuddy's martini.

He sat down.

"Can I have your olives?" he said to Cuddy.

"Knock yourself out," she said, handing them to him.

He tossed one in the air and caught it in his mouth.

They had a round of drinks. And then another one. Conversation was flowing freely with Alvie, of course, in rare form—joking, doing funny voices, gesturing wildly with his hands—and making Cuddy laugh so hard tears were coming out of her eyes.

"I can't believe you never told about your friend Alvie," she said to House.

"I also never told you about that one time I had the clap," House said. "Some things are better kept secret."

"Me and House are best friends on the down low," Alvie said. "I'm his undercover brother from another mother."

"He _is_ like the annoying little brother I never had," House agreed.

"So you guys were roommates at Mayfield?"

"Yup!" Alvie said. "Roommates, partners in crime and partners in rhyme."

"Partners in rhyme?" Cuddy said, glancing at House, a wickedly delighted smile on her face.

"He's just kidding," House said quickly.

"You don't know about MC House? His rhymes are dope. And that's no joke!"

"Your rhymes are _dope_?" Cuddy said, sipping on her martini and giggling. "I learn something new about you every day, House."

"Oh yeah," Alvie enthused. "We did a song together at the Mayfield Talent Show. It was tiiight."

"How much clinic duty am I going to have to do to assure that you're not going to tell anyone about this? Ever?"

"Oh a lot," Cuddy teased. "So sooo much clinic duty."

She playfully rested her hand on House's arm.

"Thanks Alvie," she said. "I owe you one."

Just then, Alvie noticed the ring on Cuddy's finger.

"Wait a second!" Alvie said, breaking into a huge grin. "Congratulations!"

He thumped House heartily on the back.

"For what?"

"You didn't tell me you guys were getting married!"

"We're not!" House and Cuddy replied hastily, in unison.

"Is that not an engagement ring? Because if the bling is true, you must say I do."

"It is an engagement ring," Cuddy admitted. "I'm just. . ."

"She's marrying some other guy," House grumbled.

"What?" Alvie said, genuinely bewildered.

"Yes, my fiancé Lucas. He's a . . . private investigator."

Alvie looked at House, then at Cuddy.

"Then he should investigate why you're marrying some other dude when you're obviously in love with my man House!" Alvie said.

Then he began to rhyme:

"_I ain't blind. _

_So I see it's true._

_That Cuddy loves House._

_And House loves you."_

House and Cuddy exchanged a nervous glance.

"I'm in love with my fiancé," Cuddy said, unconvincingly.

"As much as you love House?" Alvie said.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, House stood up.

"This is my cue to go to the men's room," he said. "Excuse me."

Alvie and Cuddy watched him walk away.

A few minutes later, Alvie's phone rang.

He looked down: An incoming call from Greg House. He was about to say, "Hey, House is calling me!" but Cuddy was looking down at her own phone, not paying attention.

He answered.

"Yo."

"Yes or no: Did the words, 'Hey, House is calling me!' just come out of your mouth?" House asked.

"No, of course not," Alvie said, defensively.

"Good. Then this is what I need you to do. I need you to excuse yourself from the table because you have to deal with this phone call."

"How do I have to de—"

"Alvie, don't speak. Just hang up the phone and say these exact words: 'Gotta take care of something for a minute. I'll be right back.' Can you do that? Nothing more and nothing less. Then, don't come back to the table until I text you."

"But what if—?"

"Alvie, just do it." And he hung up.

Alvie glanced at Cuddy, who was now looking at him expectantly.

"I, um, gotta take care of something for a minute," he recited. "I'll be right back."

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

Alvie's mouth dropped open.

"Actually, um. . .um. . .it's my grandmother," he improvised. "She's dying."

"Dying?" Cuddy put her hand to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

"Not _dying_ dying," he stammered. "Dying … for me to come visit her. Yeah. So sometimes I've gotta, you know, talk to her on the phone until she falls asleep. I sing sometimes to her, too. Lullabies and shit."

"You sound like a very good grandson."

"I am."

House, who was watching this exchange from the corner of the bar, did a facepalm. Alvie was clearly deviating from the script.

But Alvie was now making his way out of the bar. Cuddy didn't look particularly suspicious, either.

House came back, pretending to wipe his wet hands on his jeans.

"The time honored bathroom tradition," he cracked. "Step one: Vigorously rub hands under air blower. Step two: Dry hands on pants."

Then he looked around. "Where'd Alvie go?" he asked innocently.

"He has to go sing his grandma to sleep. Isn't that sweet?"

"He _what?_" Then he shook his head. "Nevermind."

He sat down next to her.

"Sorry about the whole ring thing before. Alvie doesn't have much of a filter."

"It's okay. He was just expressing his opinion," she said.

"He's actually, um, very intuitive," House said, eyeing her tentatively.

"House, don't," she scolded.

"I'm just saying. Alvie sees the truth."

"House. . ."

His looked at her, pleadingly.

"Are you _sure_ you wanna marry this guy, Cuddy?"

She looked down at her martini.

"Of course I'm not sure. How can anyone be sure about such a thing?"

"I'm sure," he said. "I'm sure about my feelings for you."

"House, don't. You're just trying to confuse me."

He lifted her chin with his thumb.

"I'm not. . .I'm not trying to confuse anyone."

He leaned toward her and kissed her. When she didn't resist—she didn't exactly kiss back, either, just let his mouth graze hers—he kissed her harder.

"Stop," she said, unconvincingly.

"Really?" he said, kissing her again. He could feel her body react to him, almost unconsciously. Her mouth grew soft. Her breathing got heavy. She curled toward him, like a cat.

"You really want me to stop?"

"No," she admitted, finally kissing back for real, pressing her breasts up against his chest, her tongue now firmly in his mouth.

He adjusted his position so he could take her in his arms. Things were about to get really hot when she caught herself—and jerked away.

"House! We can't be doing this!" she said.

"I know," he breathed excitedly. "We're in public. Let's go back to my place."

"No, that's not what I meant. We can't be doing this, _period_. I'm engaged!"

"So get…_unengaged_!" he said,

"It doesn't work like that!" she said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's my life, not a game."

"Stop saying that! I don't think it's a game! I . . . love you!"

She stared at him.

"You don't get to say that tonight, House. That's not fair!"

"What do you think this has all been about?" he said. "I've been pining after you for two years, changed my entire life, got sober, because I kinda _like_ you?"

Cuddy closed her eyes. Her head was spinning.

"You're too late!" she shouted. And she got up from the table and ran away.

"Fuck!" House said, so loudly that, even in a noisy bar, the other patrons gave him accusatory looks.

"Fuck," he groaned more softly this time. He put his head in his hands. He sat there like that for several minutes.

"You didn't text me, but I figured the coast was clear!" Alvie said, looking around, spy-style, and sitting across from him. "I saw you kissing her, too, you dog. My man!" He held up his hand for a slap. House ignored it.

"Where'd she go?" Alvie said.

"Home, presumably."

"What? Why?"

"Because that's where her future husband is waiting for her."

"That is some bullshit, House! Some bullshit!"

Then, taking in House's appearance, he said: "You look shaken up, man. Can I get some water? Another scotch?"

When House didn't reply, Alvie grew indignant on his friend's behalf.

"You know what you need? Some new bitch to get your mind off the old one! That's what we need House. Some new bitches!"

House sighed.

"Alvie, can you just do me a favor and _not talk_ for a few more minutes?"

"Not talk? No problem. No problem at all, House."

Then under his breath, he began to sing: "_It's drivin me out of my mind! Can't get her out of my head! Miss her, kiss her, love her. . . That girl is poisooooon_."

######

By the time Cuddy got home, Lucas was already in bed, watching _The Tonight Show_.

"You said 10," he groused.

"Sorry," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"And you smell like a distillery. I thought you said work."

"I, uh, went out for drinks with a few colleagues afterward," she said.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might want to come?" he said. (Maybe because he sensed Cuddy's reticence, Lucas had become super clingy over the course of their relationship. Cuddy thought that accepting his proposal would calm his insecurities. If anything, he'd become more possessive.)

"Sorry," she said. "I knew how much you wanted to watch your show."

"That's why they have these things called DVRs," he said.

"Sorry," she said. "Next time."

"The important thing is, you're here now," he said, reaching over to kiss her. He started to climb on her, but she turned away.

"Can I take a raincheck?" she said. "I'm exhausted."

"Sure," he said, mopily. Then, under his breath, he muttered: "Great fucking date night."

He turned off the lamp on his nightstand. The room went dark.

Cuddy closed her eyes, but she found that she couldn't sleep.

She kept playing over the events of the day in her head: Finding out about House's crusade to get back her book. The fizzy, flirty happiness she had felt tonight in his presence. Alvie—naïve, goofy, "intuitive" Alvie—seeing right through her. House's kiss, the way his mouth and his body felt against hers—a tiny shimmering sensation passed over her body just thinking of it. "It's no game," he had said. "I love you."

She looked over at Lucas, who was sleeping with his back to her, still possibly sulking from her earlier rejection, and she said, into the darkness:

"I can't do this."

He didn't stir.

Now she turned on the light.

He woke up. "What's up babe?"

"I. . .I'm sorry but I can't do this."

He sat up, already knowing, already dreading her answer: "Can't do what?"

"I can't marry you Lucas. It's not right. I love someone else."

"You weren't out with colleagues tonight. You were with him."

Her mouth felt dry. She swallowed a bit.

"Lucas, I'm sorry."

He folded his arms across his chest, looking like he was about to cry.

"I know it hurts now," she said. "But in the long run, I'm saving us both a lot of pain. We never even made a public announcement. Barely anyone knows . . ."

He gave her a lethal stare.

"I'm so glad you've been spared the humiliation of anyone knowing we were engaged!" he spat out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that. . .you won't have to explain things to anyone. It'll be easier."

"Screw you," he said.

She went to take his hand.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

He got up out of bed.

"I'm out of here," he said.

"No," she said. "It's the middle of the night. You stay. I'll go."

"Where are you going to go?" he asked. And then it occurred to him. "Of course. To him."

She touched his shoulder but he jerked away.

"Just go to him already. It's what you've wanted to do this whole time anyway."

#######

But standing in front of House's door, she suddenly felt nervous. It was like she was about to cross some imaginary threshold. Before, there had been this safe, predictable life she had chosen with Lucas. But now: Knocking on House's door, telling him how she really felt, there was no turning back. It was like taking a leap into the life she wanted but feared, because she wanted it too much.

Steeling herself, she inhaled deeply and finally mustered up the nerve to knock.

It took him a few minutes to come to the door. He had bedhead. He was blinking at the light and his face was slightly creased from the bed.

"Cuddy?" he said, somewhat dazed. He ushered her in. "What are you doing here?"

"Lucas . . ." she said, slumping her shoulders a bit.

"What about him?" His posture grew tense. "Did he hurt you? I'll fucking kill him!"

"No, nothing like that. We broke up."

His eyes widened.

"You _what_?"

"We had a big fight. And I. . .ended it."

Disbelieving, he said: "But. . ._why?_"

"Because I told him I loved another man."

"Alvie made quite an impression, huh?" he cracked. (He would deflect with jokes until he was absolutely sure, because if Cuddy wasn't saying what he thought she was saying, he might never fully recover from the disappointment.)

"Yeah, I guess Alvie did make a big impression," she said. "Because he was right."

"Cuddy, what are you saying. . ."

"You know what I'm saying."

Then, with a tiny smile, she chanted:

"_I'm ain't so blind that I can't see. _

_That I love House and House loves me_."

"Oh, thank God!" he said, and he enveloped her in his arms.

THE END


End file.
